Psychonauts: the Rabooki question
by scout-islander
Summary: A quirky story narrated by a supposed scotsman. Raz discovers a psychic device from the seventies, meets one of the teams oldest villains, and grows an odd obsession with 1930s detective movies. A quirky story for people who want to laugh.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

In which Razputin learns that corny lines of dialogue are better left unsaid, and that some hair-do chairs can be sinister.

Razputin found himself flung down as Boris's bony fingers twisted into telekinetic shapes, finally making a pulling motion and flinging Raz across the tiny office. Oleander hid behind the desk readying his psy-blasts while Milla Vodello and Sasha Nien attempted to block Boris's mind. The mastermind laughed as he countered all of these attempts. The team had been fighting the word renowned villain Boris Murgrundo for over thirty minutes now, after discovering his location upon destroying one of his bombs. Yes, so far it had been a standard Psychonaut mission, and to be honest, Raz was still excited by the whole thing.

Maybe it'd be best if I explained. You're probably all sitting there going 'what on earth is going on between these characters that sound like species of turnip and one Russian circus elephant?' If you're not, then read on anyway. It's good for the unknown to be known. That, and I have a train to catch at five. Anyway, Raz was once an ordinary psychic-hated by humanity, distrusted by his family. At least, that's what he'd thought. He'd run away from his circus home to escape the harsh training he had been put under, and ended up at a camp for psychics. It's not every day that you not only make many friends, but also end up stumbling upon a plot to enslave humanity. It's best not to get too into it-It did involve a man who thought he was an arsonist milkman and a turtle who thought he was Barry White. To cut a long story short, reconciliation with his father had finally earned him acceptance as a Psychonaut-something he had always dreamed of. It was the kind of thing all young boys dreamed of, to be a hero of any kind. He was sad to be frequently leaving the camp (Except for the gravy. Raz knew that if there was ever a time in the lodge he would never miss, it was the copious amounts of gravy the absent minded Cruller would pour onto the steaks…and desert. Gravy ice cream was not a particularly pleasant experience, and neither was later learning that the gravy was not gravy after all…well; I did say that Cruller was absent minded, but moving swiftly on. Actually, it's quite fun to get involved with most of the dialogue as the author now. Perhaps I'll write a book. But getting back to the subject of Razputin and being a Psychonaut.) The missions had been coming in steadily, what with the Psychonauts back in action after the betrayal by one of their own teammates. And why was Raz enjoying it so much? Simple: not only was he working with his heroes, but he was also fighting against some of his favourite villains.

"Nice try, Psycho-freaks," scoffed Boris, " but my blocking techniques far surpass yours. You don't think I trained myself to block every move and power in those frozen wastes for nothing did you?" He gave an evil laugh as Sasha covered his face with his free hand, and Milla nodded in agreement.

"You know, darling, if there's one thing I'll never get used to is those good old villainous monologues."

"Hey!" Yelled Boris, lowering his hands onto his hips, "I have to fill my time somehow. Or would you rather we just fought each other in silence? All the cool comic-books have them, like issue 51 of true psychic…" He gasped as agent Cruller, who'd proceeded to tie up the villain in invisible knots, quickly gave him a hefty kick up the backside.

"Don't suppose I'll ever get used to their hineys getting' kicked to Alabama neither!" The Psychonauts laughed as Raz rubbed his aching head. So much for 'a piece of the action'. Boris had looked so easy to beat in the hallowed pages of true psychic tales. Why now did he choose to run at the problem recklessly? Still, the time had to be used for congratulations now, so he picked himself up and joined his teammates. Boris lay on the floor, groaning relentlessly.

"To think I almost got away with ruining the presidency," He sighed, "And I would have done it too, if it weren't for you meddling psychics and your useless soldier over there!"

Oleander peeped from behind the desk, "Yeah…well…at least I gave …uhh…psychic support! A few more minutes and you would have been sneezing out your brain like…" He sank behind the desk as agent Cruller approached him.

"Now, now," said Cruller Sternly, "What did we say about making people sneeze out their brains?" Now Oleander was standing away from the desk, his hands behind his back and his face looking at the ground as he kicked his heels awkwardly.

"That taking peoples brains, good or bad, is wrong," He recited monotonously, "Especially making them sneeze it out, and especially young children. And it's especially bad to get caught…I mean, to do it at all." He looked up and smiled as Cruller gave him thumbs up.

Now, for those of you who don't know, Oleander was once a young boy who was forced to watch his butcher father slaughter his young pets for meat. I suppose it's what comes with the inflation of income tax and a whale of bills to pay. To this day, for all we know, the father Oleander knew could have been a hardworking man who often scared his son psychologically. Anyway, the best thing to imagine is that Oleander was a bit of a Sassenach (A Scottish word for non-kilt wearers. No, I'm not Scots, but Oleander may secretly be. Or not. Whatever floats your boat. ) Any way, after being rejected from the army, young Morry grew personal demons (Yes, you can grow them, just like potatatoes) and began detailing plans to rule the world. Not recommended when you're a thirty-year-old camp coach who enslaves lungfish and dreams of eggs. But these things happen. Anyway, listen to me drone on. Back to the story.

Oleander now rushed over to the gang who watched him in a confused way as he kicked Boris and put his foot on his head. "Well done, Psychonauts! I never thought I'd…I mean_ we'd_ do it." Sasha and Milla gave each other shrugs as Oleander attempted to carry Boris to the Jet. Ford felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned round to see a worried Raz pointing towards a door. As Ford went over to investigate, Sasha, Milla and Oleander gave yelps of pain and clutched their foreheads. Ford had already opened the door, but he quickly turned round and cut off his comrades psychic connections. They fell to their knees, panting heavily. Raz was looking extremely confused.

"Okay," His face turned to Cruller, "What just happened?" Cruller pointed inside to the room, his face now serious. Inside was the president of Psychic affairs, bound and gagged, in the middle of the dustiest and dirtiest room Raz had ever seen. Junk lay on either side of the walls, each seemingly sorted into pots, pans, basins and the like. Cruller ran forward to untie the President while Raz inspected the room. He soon spotted what had made his comrades wince in psychic pain-an antennae, attached to an object buried under the pile. Raz had already recognised it-an instigator, as depicted back at the camp in Oleanders latest training. He used his psi blast to destroy it instantly. He was just about to return to the group, when an even stronger force took control in his mind, bringing him to his knees. The pain was unbearable. As it subsided, he turned in the direction of the force to see a door half covered by the junk. Approaching it, he noticed the sign 'Psychic affairs lab-keep out.' Raz decided it would be best to ignore this and began to turn the handle. He suddenly found himself lifted into the air as Ford Cruller used his telekinesis to hoist the boy into the air. Raz was struggling frantically. "Let me go!" He cried, "I can do this myself, you don't know what's down there!"

"First, young Razputin," Lectured Cruller, "That powerful force is far too strong for you to be dealing with, and second...I _do_ know what it is." And Raz was lifted out into the main office. He looked on as the rest of the team grabbed Boris and took him out into the jet.

The sun was setting as Raz sat on a log back at the camp, his head in his hands, thinking about what could have been down in that lab. It wasn't fair that he couldn't see it-he was a fully-fledged Psychonaut, after all. Lili and Doegen were too busy on the camp outing with the annual Psychic tour band (The Psycosausage) to talk to him, so he sat and consoled himself. He suddenly noticed Ford Cruller give him a wave, motioning for him to come over. Raz did, and Cruller pointed to the inside of the jet. Raz followed Ford. Inside was the hull of the jet, and right in the middle was a strange contraption. It looked like a hair-do device, a chair with a dish attachment that would obviously be placed over the head of the one who would sit in the chair. The constraints and straps suggested some kind of torture, and the metallic framing made it look like an electric chair. A large R was imprinted on the dish in the middle of two lights (Now deactivated) that resembled two sinister eyes. Cruller bent to Raz's height and looked him squarely in the eye.

"Now Razputin, I know that Boris is a slightly unpredictable and annoying foe..."

"Yeah," Interrupted Raz, "I guess that's what happens when your mother treats you like a poodle and you gain a fondness for biting cats tails and get schizophrenia and join the criminal organization S.H.E.E.P (Supervillainous haters evading every Psychonaut)."

"Yes, yes, that all helps." Cruller shook his head and continued. "But you tried your best, just as you have against most of our foes that you've faced so far. But this...this... monster of a machine stands for something far worse...it was part of a project. Something called the Rabooki project. Come here a minute," He sat Raz down next to him. "During the seventies, the Rabooki project was set up. Some...people weren't too happy with the amount of Psychic activity going ion in the world. This was something I've sworn never to ever fully talk about again, so you'll just have to live with what you know for now. Soon it won't even matter and...Hey? What are you doing in my lodge? Now Get!" Raz sighed. The psitanium strapped to the old mans back had worn off, and Cruller had reverted to one of his other personalities. Raz left to the camps, while Ford attempted to find his broom.

Oleander paced up and down Sashas lab, mumbling to himself. Sasha and Milla stood around the supercomputer, wondering what their next action should be.

"Well, we can't let the Psychic Governmental department know about this. The last time we reported a false Rabooki situation every Psychic on the planet nearly went public. Not to mention the paperwork awaiting us on our return."

It's true ladies and gentlemen. A couple of years ago, there had been a fallout with the government on the subject of Psychics. Many had gotten nose jobs to disguise a few wee things (Again, I'm not Scots…maybe a tiny bit.) To once again cut a long story short, Sasha had returned from a mission to discover a high level of psychic activity being uprooted (To go public) and had to sort the whole problem. It was he who had been forced to do the paperwork, and he wasn't exactly planning on doing five-hundred useless essays on cows again. Would you?

"If what you're saying is true, darling" said Milla thoughtfully, " Then what are we supposed to do? What if it really is as powerful as the original thing? Who do we tell? And what if we have to leave, who would look after the children? I mean, you do remember the last time..."

"I heard that!" Oleander had now stopped pacing and was pointing accusingly at Milla. " I've learnt my lesson! Besides, I trust the Psychic governmental department about as much as I trusted my dad-I wouldn't put anything past them. It's not unheard of for corruption to take control, y'know. They could have taken possession of the machine for private usage. I think we should..."

"Nothing." The three looked up to see that Ford now had a recharged pack of Psitanium on his back, and was standing with a stern look in his eye, something they had never seen before. "Nothing is going to happen. The machine has been locked away in my base, where we will never talk of it or see it again. It's bad enough that I had to endure seeing it being used back in the seventies, and I never want to see it in those hands again. We move on, we shape up, we swallow our pride. Now, Sasha, I want you to get Sheegor to see me-I need to lay down a few ground rules about using that room and protecting it." And with that, he walked up the stairs to the exit. Oleander turned to the others and tapped his head.

"Guy's as paranoid as a mongoose. Not that mongeese get paranoid, but, y'know...dislodged one too many pieces of Psitanium with his head." Mongeese? Not paranoid? You'd be surprised young Oly…(Actually, Oleander has a gripping fear of Mongoose. Gets it from his dad.)

"Unfortunately, he's right," Sighed Milla, "But he keeps forgetting that he's not the only one who had problems with the Rabooki project. I mean, they commissioned every psychic child in the country and…" She trailed off, staring at the floor. Sasha nodded and handed her some coffee, leading her out of the lab. Oleander quickly looked from side to side to make sure nobody else was around, and grabbed the Psy-com-link. He tapped out a message and left the machine on as he ran out of the room to follow the others. The machine continued to hum, until a strange buzz sounded. Lights sparked. The buttons flashed across the keyboard, as it to form a pair of evil eyes... and then the machine went dead. And that, my dear readers, is something we should all be afraid of…..


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In which the villain is revealed and Raz faces off against the boy with the worlds largest ego (and largest mop of hair.)

Baron Duvant looked across Krotopolis, an evil smile playing about his lips. It would be true to say that, if smiles could play, then this was the king of all infants. He watched as the clouds below his citadel tower swirled, which would have given anyone a sickly feeling. The Baron adjusted his large blue hat and turned to his gleaming boardroom, the empty chairs making him feel expectant, the silver tale giving a dull reflection of the deep light blue sky. (There, an Oxy-moron. Skies can't be deep and light blue. But then again, the man who invented the oxymoron's never studied art at the psychic school of moocows.) The board meeting had been decided over a week ago, but the impatient Baron was still giggling with glee at the thought of his secret. In fact, that's what he always did. The Baron was a man who seemed to have a constant secret. He would chuckle to himself like a crazy lunatic (Ah, the opposite to the oxymoron. Lunatics ARE crazy, and therefore creating a...err...obviousimoron. There, that's science for you.) The plans had been laid for the event, hopefully with less giggling, and the three villainous cohorts would make their appearance.

Baron Duvant? Three villains? Didn't the Psychonauts...yup. (Another way of saying yes, except it makes you sound like a cowboy. J.T takes note.) The Psychonauts locked up their enemy, the baron himself, quite a while ago. Sahsa was often at odds with the Baron because he would claim he hated psychics. However, Sasha's investigations led him to believe that the barons' powers were of Psychic origin. He has remained mystified about the situation to this day. The Baron himself finally rented out the disused toilet and plumbing factory to create his latest and greatest citadel. It was indeed accompanied by an enormous tower that stretched above the clouds, and seeing as nobody would think of looking up there, he was safe. As for the three villains, the Baron had actually gained fame amongst the prisoners who had been put away by the Psychonauts by being the only man to have ever beaten agent Cruller. Not much of an achievement to say, but proof was given through one of the many spy cameras he had secreted on him, and no, I have no idea where it came from when he produced it. With all that mysterious cloaking it's best not to think about it. Needless to say, three such villains had sworn fealty to the evil baron. These villains had just made their entrance into the Barons meeting room, each stepping from the lift and taking a seat.

The first was a tall individual with a mask that had no eyeholes. He wore a detectives uniform which made him look so much like Dick Tracy's shadowed double that Tracy's shadow would have probably given up and gone for a holiday in Barbados before being mistaken for the great man himself and arrested for booze and gambling. Well, that's what makes you a shadow of your former self. His mask sported a single eye imprinted on his forehead, and his slender hands were dug deep into his pockets. He suddenly removed these clothes to reveal a completely blacked out spandex (Phew, didn't know where that sentence was going for a minute), which had an Egyptian eye embezzled across his chest. He seemed to crouch slightly as he walked over to his seat. The second individual was probably the oddest of the lot. His height must have been of about four feet, and he wore an odd contraption on his head (I wear many odd contraptions on my head, but they often resemble chickens, so that people avoid me in the street. Not that they didn't already.) On the top was an odd hatch, and the entire metal skullcap seemed to make the mans eyes sag and create a rather menacing effect. His right arm was shoulder padded, and his ears stuck out like tuning forks. It would make sense to clear the mists of confusion that, while bearing an uncanny resemblance to Benny the nose, he didn't really. Not another oxy-moron, just a matter of fact. My eyes mislead me. Believe me, they've done worse. And anyway, it wasn't my fault that the bottle labeled petroleum nitrate looked like a banana. The midget, as we shall now refer to him until his name comes to a head, (which translated means 'is revealed.' This tale is bilingual too.) , sat down to await the meeting. The final member to enter made killer croc look like a bacon sani. His skin was red and scaly; his costume was orange and yellow, with no sleeves, making him look like something out of a sci-fi epic. I'll think I'll get working on that now, lizards from space has a nice ring to it. He seemed to act coolly and calmly (as apposed to coyly and clammy) as he strode over to his seat.

The Baron (who by now was wandering why it had taken a whole block of the story for them to sit down) cleared his throat and pressed a button. The curtains slid across the window overlooking the clouds and the city, the members relaxed in their chairs, and the baron pulled down a screen. And yes, the baron began to talk in his French accent.

"Gentlemen! It is with great pleasure zat I welcome you today! For many moons I 'ave been searching for an answer to my Psychonauts problems. Ze time has come for us to initiate plan zix hundred and twenty one- operation Psychoworld! The following cannot be enclosed to you in speech, as walls 'ave ears! So, Ma copains, I will hand out ze mission slips for you to read. Each of you 'az been given strict instructions to follow zese orders, and if any one of you steps out of line, god be it, I will be ze one to trip you up! Soon, ze world will be ours...HAHAHAHAHAHA!" As he chuckled away to himself like Father Christmas after too many mince pies and hard liquor, he didn't notice that the man in the black spandex (Another good movie title) had his hand up. The large frill lizard gave a cough, loud enough for the Baron to stop and motion that the question could be asked.

"This is all very well," Said the man in a unaccented, slight nasally and villainous tone, " but need I remind you that the boy they have with them is, from what I've heard in the underworld community, good. We will need to keeps our minds on constant guard and focus while we deal with him..._if_ we deal with him." The lizard nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, like back in eighty six!" He was absolutely right. In nineteen-eighty-six, Sasha Nien and Milla Vodello managed to discover one of the villains in Tibet wearing the disguise that he thought would make him inconspicuous-how wrong he was. Indeed, the hot-dog seller wearing no thermals intrigued vast suspicion. When they entered his mind as a precaution, he'd only gone and forgotten to protect his mind, something all Psychonauts villains have to train themselves to do. Thus, this particular villains secrets and nightmares leaked out, and he currently goes by a name the prisoners gave to him. Tree hugging Joe of mashed potato sexual encounters, we feel your pain. Your love of Top Cat will not go unheard.

The Baron also nodded his head and handed out several cards (not while nodding his head, the baron was never good at multitasking.)

"Yes, I do understand. Zese cards will protect you from thier Psychic powers. Trust me, Zis should not be overlooked. To think zat I 'ave recruited ze best villains in the world, and ze plan may actually work!" And this time, all three villains, making sure nobody was looking in case they looked like wallies, burst into evil laughter.

Razputin sat by the campfire, holding Lili Zanottos hand. He'd gone back and changed into his old gear, feeling that even though the uniform was cool, Sasha, Oleander and Milla had been allowed to wear their own-why couldn't he? Doegen sat next to them eating his ice cream and looking around happily. I was true that his squirrel friends had backed off this time, considering the mental damage they had almost inflicted on him. Raz looked up at Lili to see that she was secretly smiling at the thought of being with Raz. He scratched the back of his head, giving a nervous laugh. A far more mocking laugh came from behind in the form of his old rival and enemy, Bobby Zilch. Bobby was infamous as being the camp bully, but truth be told, this was only because of his height and scary face. In actual fact Bobby was quite the weak little boy, with virtually no muscles and an I.Q of a stump. No, of a grain of soil, because stumps must have a good sense of humor. Look at them, don't you agree now? Bobby proceeded to laugh at the two along with his right hand man, Benny 'the nose' Fidello. For some reason he didn't think the name 'the ear' suited him. Opinion was divided on the subject-he thought it was bad, everybody else would tag it to his back for Bobby to laugh at him.

"Looks like the two lovebirds have flown to roost, ey Benny!" Bobby seemed to enunciate every word in a scratch that gave it a comical effect. Benny sniggered evilly.

"Yeah, boss, they are as dumb as a cuckoo!"

Hold it right there. Cuckoos are actually very smart creatures. Any creature who can pose as a another birds species despite growing far bigger than its false parents must be smart. Oh yes, I have a few choice words for Benny, however...

Raz got down from his seat, strode over to Bobby Zilch and stared him down. Now, Bobby was no fool. He knew that if Raz, a Psychonaut, ever approached him, there was going to be trouble.

"Hey Bobby, how's about you and your friend there leave us alone now, or we'll have to go all extra credit on you and do something that'll be bad." Raz didn't notice Lili slap her forehead. Bobby folded his arms, an eyebrow raised as he eyed up Raz.

"Y'know, perhaps a test of the mind would be bettering this time around, chumpy! Would you dare enter the mind of the great Bobby Zilch? Or are you too chicken to jump in like the chicken you are, which means that you have feathers and stuff." Lili couldn't understand why boys were so bad at cursing each other. She cupped her hands to her mouth to give support.

"Hey, Bobby, your moms so ugly that when she looked out the window she got arrested for mooning!" She thanked having seen a particular show for that one. The two boys looked at her in disbelief.

"I don't get it." Bobby said to Raz.

"Me neither." Lili sighed and slapped Doegens back in sarcastic friendship.

"Gee, Einstein, thanks for the help."

Doegen smiled. "You're welcome. Wait...are you lying? The squirrels used to talk like that too. I get confused."

Now, being the society stickler that I am, I don't really recommend the whole slandering thing. If you really want to offend someone, the best thing to do is to stand next to a Scotsman with his kilt draped legs over a puddle and cry 'I see it's a full moon tonight jock!' Now that's how I would do it. I remember when cousin Hetty came over; she spent most of her time in a corner of the room never saying a word. Then when she finally took the bus she noticed a tiny man sitting next to a very large woman. The large woman apparently said to the man 'If you were a gentleman, you'd let those two people sit in your seat.' My cousin, outraged at this bullying shouted 'and if you were a lady, you'd let all FOUR of us sit down!' Raz could at least try and be inventive. I could always make him in this story, but it would ruin my bosses' inventive incentive. So there you go.

Raz Whipped out his Mind device and threw it at Bobby so that it landed on his head. He quickly jumped inside the small door that opened, and shut it as he finally entered Bobby Zilches mind.

As Raz looked around, he noticed...well, he didn't notice anything really. Bobbies mind was just as he'd imagined it-empty. No censors, no signs, nothing. It was almost like a one-dimensional world, except far less exciting and full of holes. He soon discovered why- Bobbie's entire mental landscape was a block of cheese. A door appeared in the centre of the land. Raz decided that whatever was behind it must be more interesting than here, so he opened it (As you would.) To his amazement, this world was much more...well, much more. There was a basketball court where an extremely muscled Bobby was playing, his body seemingly unable to support his legs, yet he moved gracefully. Raz knew that this must be Bobbies mental image of himself, agreeably over-exaggerated. However, thought Raz, it would explain why Bobby had been able to almost outdo him in certain training missions. Only a reasonably controlled mind could create such a certain image. Anyway, image or no image, he wasn't going to try and converse with it any time soon. The other point of interest was the new landscape, a whole suburban city full of images of Bobby. And far away at the end of the path, was what was unmistakably a crib and a small blue baby. Raz was just about to run into the city when the path to the crib stretched before him, and the city grew. Every building had Bobbies ugly mug pasted onto a poster, or sculpted round the building. The commuters all resembled Benny's, each carrying cell phones marked with a brand name (Nose phones. Oddly enough, these Benny's did indeed have large noses, and considering that this would be Bobbies own viewpoint, this would explain a few nicknames...well, the boy must have dodgy eyesight. Have you seen his eyes?) and high in the oddly colored sky, an enormous head of Bobby himself smiled evilly down at Raz. Censors' leapt out of his mouth and attempted to engulf Raz. Raz was not going to let some giant head get the better of him. As he fought the censors, the Bennys all flew into the air as the large and muscle Bobby made his entrance. He attempted to rip the censors away from Raz, just so he could get a piece of the action. Raz now noticed yet another Bobby sitting on the back of the giant muscle man. This one resembled the old Bobby; only he was now wearing a crown and a king's cape.

"See, Raz, in my mind…I AM KING! Bwehaehehehehea!" He laughed maniacally as the muscle bound Bobby tried to squash Raz, but he was too quick, and dodged down a back alley. Raz knew that he had to make it to the crib or he wouldn't be able to beat Bobby, most likely spending the rest of his days at whispering rock ridiculed at being a Psychonaut who couldn't beat the mind of an idiot. Luckily, this idiocy meant that Raz could evade him. He just had to make sure that the Bennys, who were on high alert now, didn't report his whereabouts. That and the yelling of the censors would give him away. He turned the corner to see...yes! The crib! With his heart pounding, he ran over. The timing couldn't have been better, for as he entered it, a force field came up and blocked Bobby, who had just reached Raz's whereabouts. Raz decided it would be best to leave the cursing Bobby and concentrate on finding out more about his past. Sure enough, a vault was running around the crib, and was slow enough for Raz to punch it open. What followed interested him.

Images spilled forth from the vault, and Raz pieced his story together. Images of Bobby happily playing and trying out for sports was shown, and an image of what was presumably his father handing him his famous T-shirt that he always wore at whispering rock. However, a strange-silhouetted character (Who, to Raz seemed to resemble Dr lo...no, they couldn't) was shown handing the boy away from his parents, and later images showed Bobby at the camp looking miserable. So, thought Raz, Bobby must have no-where else to go. Maybe he would bring it up with him once he'd gotten out though, he thought to himself, perhaps it would be slightly mean to do that to Bobby. However, images of all the times Bobby had tried to best him came flooding back, and Raz continued his vengeful resolve. He noticed that the blue baby he'd spotted earlier was wearing a baseball cap and holding a bat. He reached out to touch the hat when he was suddenly set upon by a swarm of personal demons. Raz knew he'd gone too far into the mind once he'd seen one of the demons blow up the image of the baby. The city opened up into a whole new environment. The stability of Bobbies mind had been fractured, revealing a rather different idea. Bobbies mind had suddenly turned from an ego-tatistical world into...oh no. Raz couldn't believe it. Sitting in the centre of plush, red room with deer horns on the walls and a roaring fireplace was Bobby, now wearing a monocle and reading Sigmund Freud. Not even reading it upside down as well! Raz took a tentative step forward, and looked down as he stepped onto the bearskin rug with the head at the end of it. Raz cursed himself...he had unlocked Bobbies little known intelligence. And he knew what a problem that could be for a boy who probably couldn't spell his own name. The intellectual caught sight of Raz and gave him a mean look.

Oops.

Oleander was tapping away at his personal messenger. He knew that Milla and Sasha would be back at any minute, and he didn't want them to see what he was doing. He quickly positioned the sausage behind his ear, and continued to type frantically. If only the message didn't require so much detail, he thought, if only it was just a short word. He suddenly remembered to stuff the plans up his shirt so that he could walk out without suspicion. It was just as well, for in the doorway, looking at him in plain expressions, were the two aforementioned themselves. As for the more beady eyed of you, the sausage behind Oleanders ear was pure accident. In his frantic worry he'd replaced his pencil behind his ear with his lunch. God knows what happened to that poor pencil, and it can be safely said that Morry will most likely be sitting on a full stomach tonight. Sasha approached him just as Oleander had managed to press send and kick the machine, therefore rendering it unviewable on screen. He brushed past Sasha and Milla as fast as his short fat legs could carry him, muttering something about walking his plants and watering the lungfish. Milla turned to Sasha, her back pressed against the wall and her arms folded.

"You know, If I didn't know any better I'd say that our sweet little Oleander has gotten himself into some bad vibes once more. I can't believe he'd leave without trying to cover himself up..."

"...Well, that's what clears him of suspicion." Sashas mind, relaxed once more, allowed his face to be expressionless once more. "If he was up to no good, then he would be stumbling to offer his explanation to us. It's quite simple really, though..." He walked over to the desk and placed his hands on it while looking down in thought, "...I hope he hasn't gotten himself into trouble. I've already had enough of Rabooki speculations that..." Milla by now had tentatively walked behind him, and, now assured that it would be accepted, began to massage his back.

"You mustn't stress yourself darling," She crooned, in her softest and more seductive voice. Sasha, without even looking up, snapped, "There's no need to be false with me Milla." Startled, she stepped back, and he stormed out, saying "Why don't you stop putting on an act and be yourself for once!" Milla sighed. This wasn't the first time she'd been told that, but never from Sasha. It was always coming, she supposed, and it was never going to go away. And for a brief moment, she gave a slight jerk, a tear falling from her cheek. The messenger machine blurred into life, and as she typed away she felt that as nobody would be returning, it would be a perfect time to begin phase two. She grabbed the speakerphone.

"Hello, psychic lines? I wish to speak to agent Yopla. It's a private matter, sweetie...yes, I'll hold..." The other line clicked in her ear as it opened, "Hello, Isith? I have the locations. I'll apply the trackers as and when I can. Good bye." She hung up, headed towards the door and noticed agent Cruller raking the leaves outside. However, the psitanium strapped to his back was still active, and she knew he would want an explanation for her being there. Quickly, she activated her power of levitation and floated over the roof of Oleanders tree house office. For a moment, Cruller sniffed the air in supposed recognition, but continued to rake in the leaves.


End file.
